


It happened once, it could happen again

by OctolingO



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Female My Unit | Byleth, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:02:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26929348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OctolingO/pseuds/OctolingO
Summary: Caspar gets sick, and Ashe’s memories decide to bring up some very unpleasant things.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert & Linhardt von Hevring, Caspar von Bergliez & Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert, Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	It happened once, it could happen again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [artimus13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/artimus13/gifts).



Ashe went about his morning routine like he always did: wake up, water the flowers Dedue had given him, try and fail to bring some semblance of order to his hair, stuff a muffin in his face. His morning class with Professor Byleth was interesting, as her classes always were. For some odd reason, Caspar wasn’t present, but Ashe simply guessed he had slept in with Linhardt. The couple had only done it once or twice, but Ashe wouldn’t be surprised if Linhardt managed to convince Caspar to do it again. 

That assumption was thrown out the window when Linhardt walked into class thirty minutes late, yawning (as usual) and carrying four giant books, and two pieces of paper for note-taking. That was odd; Linhardt only ever used one piece of paper. 

“Good morning Linhardt.” Professor Byleth said before returning to her lecture as if nothing had happened. Linhardt started to take notes, copying down the exact same information onto both sheets, as if one was meant for another person. At this point, Ashe started to get nervous. 

“Linhardt!” Ashe whispered, leaning across the gap between their tables. “Where’s Caspar?”

“He’s staying in his room today.”

“Why?”

“He’s sick, with the flu or something. Threw up all over me in the middle of the night. Ruined my sleep schedule.” Linhardt shuddered, and Ashe could sympathize. Dealing with loved ones who were sick was not a fun ordeal by any means. 

Well, Ashe would’ve sympathized if he hadn’t been too busy panicking. Caspar was sick. Caspar was sick with the flu. Caspar could die. Ashe’s parents had died due to sickness, and it had not been a pretty thing to witness. 

__ _ “Why aren’t they waking up?” Emilie, only six years old, had tears in her green eyes. “They’re supposed to wake up!” _

__ _ “I know, Emmy.” Ashe pulled his younger sibling close, turning her head so she didn’t have to look at the pale and gaunt faces of their parents. “I know.” _ _   
_ __ _ “They’re dead, aren’t they.” Stephen said. It wasn’t a question. Ashe found himself nodding, and Emilie screamed into his shirt. Ashe held her while she cried. Later that night, he did the same to Stephen. Both of his siblings were asleep by the time he was sobbing.  _

“—he! Ashe!” Byleth clapped her hands, startling Ashe out of his memories. “Are you okay? You’re not sick, are you?” Ashe flinched as if he had been struck. 

“I’m not sick.” He said, and his voice caught. “I’m fine, just got distracted.” Byleth furrowed her eyebrows, but she didn’t contradict him. Ashe noticed how she paid special attention to him throughout the lecture, though. 

“If you want, you can stop by later.” Linhardt offered as they walked out of class. “Caspar said he wanted to make sure everyone knew he was okay.”

“I don’t want to.” Ashe said quickly. Far too quickly, in Linhardt’s opinion. The silver-haired archer was hiding something. “I… have to go to the greenhouse! See you later!” Ashe practically ran off, and in the opposite direction of the greenhouse. In fact, he was running towards the gates to Garreg Mach. Towards the rolling fields that Linhardt so often used as a place for naps. Linhardt sighed. He didn’t have a class for another few hours, and he didn’t think Ashe did either, so he might as well check on Caspar and then go make sure Ashe was okay.  _ This is  _ far _ too much work.  _

Linhardt stepped up to Caspar’s door, listening inside for any sound. He heard snoring, which meant Caspar was asleep. Good. The boy could use a bit of rest and relaxation for once in his life, even if sickness was making him. 

He opened the door, seeing Caspar sprawled out over the bed like a starfish. The bucket on the side of the bed was empty, thank Seiros, and the glass that had contained water was also empty. At least Caspar had managed to get some fluids in him before passing out. Linhardt placed the books, along with the notes he’d written for Caspar, on the table and swapped the empty glass for a full one. Caspar slept on through his scuffling and the sound of him stubbing his toe on the bed and cursing. Linhardt smiled fondly at the blue-haired boy, then bent down to write a note in case Caspar woke up:

_ Caspar, I took notes for Byleth’s class and got more water. If you need food, do  _ not _ eat sugar. Eat something like a pasta salad. Something relatively healthy. Please. I am out in the field, napping.  _

_ \- Linhardt _

Linhardt put the note underneath the water glass and walked back outside to go find Ashe. The breeze was warm, and the sun was shining, and it was  _ terribly  _ tempting to just lay down in the courtyard and sleep, but Linhardt repressed the urge. For the time being. 

Ashe ran until he tripped on something, a pebble maybe, and then he fell on his hands and knees in the dirt. He made no move to get up as tears attacked him.  _ Caspar is sick, Caspar is dead, Caspar is sick, Caspar is dead, _ were the only thoughts going through his head. The tiny voice that told him that a simple flu wasn’t going to kill someone like Caspar was crushed by the much louder voices. Ashe could almost picture Caspar, lying limp and unmoving in a bed, the way he should never be, coughing his lungs out and coughing up blood until he died. That’s how his parents had gone. 

“Ashe?” An inquisitive voice said. Ashe spun and was met with Linhardt, wearing a concerned expression. “What’s going on?”

“N-Nothing. It’s dumb.” Ashe said bitterly, scrubbing his hand across his face. Linhardt sat down next to him. 

“I can tell it’s more than nothing. You know I’m not going to insult you, I wouldn’t do that to you. What’s wrong?” One more glance at the genuinely worried look on Linhardt’s face, and Ashe caved. He sobbed, covering his mouth with his hand as he almost choked on crying. Linhardt did and said nothing, only shifted his position so he was facing Ashe more directly. 

“I d-don’t want C-Caspar to die.” Ashe managed to get coherent words in between sobs.

“Why would he die?”

“He’s s-sick. P-People die when t-they’re sick.”

“Caspar isn’t going to die. He’s perfectly healthy.”

“Yeah, well s-so were my parents.” Ashe snapped. Linhardt blinked. “And that d-didn’t help them.”

“Look, I can guess that sickness took your parents from you.” Judging by the strangled sound Ashe made, Linhardt’s suspicions were correct. “It isn’t going to take Caspar.”

“How d-do you k-know?”

“Because he’s young, and we have Manuela and three healers to help him, plus we both know he’s too stubborn to die of a little sickness.” Ashe sniffled.

“I guess that’s true.” He conceded. “But… I’m still worried.”

“You can be worried. But you also know that Caspar is going to feel bad if he learns you were  _ this _ worried about him.” Linhardt told him. Ashe nodded sheepishly, wiping at his face.

“Y-Yeah.” He said, taking a deep breath. “Thanks, Linhardt. I n-needed that.”   
“Of course.” Linhardt stood up, and Ashe followed suit. “Do you want to see Caspar now? I’ll bet he’s awake.”   
“Okay.” Ashe set his shoulders firmly, eyes glinting with that determined look that Linhardt and Caspar had come to recognize. 

Ashe was nervous again by the time they got back to Caspar’s room. He was gnawing his lip, fiddling with the strings on his hoodie, and tapping his feet. 

“Stop being so nervous.” Linhardt said. “Just open the door.”

“I know, I know.” Ashe looked down at his feet, inhaled slowly, and grabbed the doorknob. As he pushed it open, he was almost knocked over by Caspar barreling into him. 

“Ashe! I’m glad to see ya made it over here!” Caspar exclaimed, patting (slapping, more like it) Ashe on the back. Ashe, who normally would have laughed, returned Caspar’s embrace almost as fiercely. 

“I am  _ so  _ glad you’re okay. Please don’t get sick again.” He said. Caspar nodded, though he was confused. 

“Alright. But it’s not like getting sick was much of a choice.” Caspar looked to Linhardt for help. Linhardt offered none, beyond a shrug and a pointed glance at Ashe. Caspar paused, glancing between the two of them, before he grabbed Linhardt’s arm and pulled both boys in for another hug. 

“You’re going to get both of us sick.” Linhardt muttered. Caspar gasped and pulled away, eyes wide. 

“Oh no! Sorry!”

“It’s okay.” Ashe was laughing now. “I think we’ll get through it.” 


End file.
